At the Battle of Harrenhal, Robb had thought that the battle had been the largest display of his forces. Looking over the battlefield now, he was amazed at what he saw. The men of the Reach and Stormlands spread out to his right, marching steadily towards the golden skulls and red suns that hung over the ranks of men that protected the River Gate, the King's Gate, and the Lion's Gate. To Robb's left were the forces of the Vale, the mounted knights looking resplendent in the shining silver armor and their flowing cloaks. They moved slowly towards the more chaotic looking horde of cavalry and footmen. The remainder of the sellswords and dothraki if Robb was to guess. Lord Royce would have a tough time taking the Dragon and Iron Gates.
The northern king was located behind the men of the Riverlands under the command of the Blackfish. They faced off against the deep ranks of the Unsullied. Daenerys had deployed her best warriors to protect the Gate of the Gods. If Robb was able to break through the eunuchs, then he had a straight shot through the city to the Red Keep.
Father and Jon, commanding the Company of the Rose, were next to his forces across from the Old Gate, which was defended by men of the Crownlands and the city watch. Although the enemy had nearly twice their number, Robb felt confident the sellswords would break through.
Robb himself was surrounded by the men of the North, the smallest force in his army, but perhaps the most battle-hardened. These were men who had fought with him at Riverrun, with Jon in the Westerlands, at Harrenhal and High Heart. There were no others that Robb wanted with him. His wife was a Tyrell, and he was related to the Vale and Riverlands by his parents' marriage, but he was still and always the King in the North.
Robb, his father, Lord Tarly, Ser Brynden, and Lord Royce had poured over a map of the city the last two days, devising a plan to take the city. The group of strategists had been able to come up with a plan to defeat men, but it had been Willas and Tyrion who had truly played the biggest role as they had come up with a few ways to take care of the three dragons. The two men had gotten along famously, and although the Imp was Robb's prisoner in all by name, he didn't seem to mind all that much, so long as he had his wine, books, and his intellectual conversations with Willas.
All the King in the North could do now was wait. His commanders were more than capable of executing the plan without him needing to run riders back and forth. Robb and his men were merely reserves. Observers of the battle really.
Horns went up from all over the battlefield. Almost as one. Blocks of men from Tarly's host began to march forward, supported by mounted knights. Hundreds of green-clad men carrying bows and crossbows jogged behind them. Robb had never fought with the lord of Horn Hill, and he would be lying if he said that his expectations weren't more than a little high. He was up against the might of Dorne and most of the Golden Company, along with a dragon if Robb's guess was right. Aegon would never allow his father-figure to fight alone.
The men of the Vale moved forward at a much slower pace than their friends on the other side of the city, but that was for a reason. Derren Stark, leader of the Company of the Rose, had been an advisor in Robb's war meeting. He knew sellswords better than anyone else in the tent, and he was positive that Royce could destroy them if he did things a certain way.
His cousin's sellswords began to fire upon crownlanders and gold cloaks. The company had only a few hundred archers, but their job was only to soften the men's resolve and to whittle down their numbers. Robb wasn't sure who was commanding the Old Gate, but whoever it was would have the toughest job. The gold cloaks, according to Robb's father, were not the most able warriors, and they made up more than half of the defenders at that gate.
"My lord, it seems Ser Brynden is preparing for his attack." Lord Gregor noted.
The lord of Ironrath was right, of course. Rolling through the ranks of riverlanders were five catapults, each slightly smaller than normal. They weren't big enough to break down walls, but against the tightly packed ranks that the Unsullied liked to fight in, they would cause damage and break up the ranks. Robb knew that it was hopeless to expect all of his forces to receive such weapons, but against the Unsullied, Ser Brynden was the one who needed them the most.
"The men are ready?" Robb asked, resisting the urge to look around him.
"As ready as they'll ever be." Forrester replied easily. "You can't train for something like this."
Robb smiled grimly. "I've heard Brandon Hawker brag that his brother can hit the eye of a gnat. Let's hope he's just as good with a much larger target."
Line Break
Daenerys
The queen of King's Landing looked out from over the Gate of the Gods at the Stark army arrayed in front of her. When she had accepted the fact that war was inevitable, she had taken a closer look at her forces and her confidence grew as she did. She knew that Robb had a sizable force, but not even he would be able to match the Targaryen host.
She was wrong. So, so wrong. The dornish and the Golden Company to the west and south looked able to stand up to the enemy, but Daenerys had her doubts everywhere else on the battlefield. The further she looked east, the more concerned she got. She even worried about the sellswords and dothraki protecting the Dragon and Iron Gates.
"Khaleesi." Ser Jorah greeted as he got closer. The northern knight was ready for battle and had a gold cloak hanging from his shoulders, which looked odd in comparison to his dark armor.
"Ser Jorah." Daenerys said, gesturing to the battlefield. "This is not at all what I expected."
Jorah shook his head. "This is not what any of us expected, my lady." he answered grimly. "They have at least thirty thousand reachmen, far more than we thought, and we also weren't prepared for the Company of the Rose."
"Another sellsword company?" Daenerys asked curiously, looking over at where the banner of the white rose snapped in the window. "I thought they were all with us."
"It seems not." Jorah sighed. "This does not bode well for us. The Company of the Rose is the second biggest company in Essos and is equal to the Windblown and the Company of the Cat."
Drogon's scaled head nudged Daenerys' shoulder, as if to remind her that he was still with her. The Mother of Dragons smiled and ran her hand over the dragon's snout. The black dragon and Rhaegal were both sitting over the gate, watching over the battle. Daenerys hoped that their presence would inspire courage in her men and fear in her enemies.
"Do not forget, ser, we have dragons." Daenerys said with a slight smile. "That should even out the odds."
Jorah raised an eyebrow, but kept his mouth shut. "With your leave, Khaleesi, I have to attend to the eastern wall. The knights of the Vale are arrayed against the dothraki and they will need reinforcements."
"What about Ser Barristan?" Daenerys asked, looking towards the Old Gate where the old knight commanded the men of the Crownlands and the majority of the gold cloaks.
Ser Jorah grimaced. "There's nothing I can, my lady. The furthest east you look, the more the battlefield is not in our favor. The city watch is spread too thin. We can't even support Prince Oberyn or Lord Connington."
A roar echoed over the city. Aegon was fearsome to behold in pitch-black armor and cape. His helm had a red dragon rearing up, its wings spread. Whatever images Daenerys had of her brother Rhaegar, Aegon looked the part. He soared over King's Landing atop Viserion. He would do his part to break the men of the Reach.
"I believe my betrothed has that well in hand." Daenerys said.
Their conversation was again interrupted by the sound of hundreds of war horns. The sound erupted from the massed ranks of reachmen as the enemy line began to tramp forward. Daenerys took a moment to stare at the enemy, unable to do nothing but admire their discipline. Horns sounded from the dornish and the golden company as well as shield walls were formed and archers ran into position.
"It seems our discussion is at an end." Daenerys said. "Stay safe."
Ser Jorah bowed. "You as well, Khaleesi."
Line Break
Eddard
Ned sat mounted next to Jon and Derren. The men of the Company of the Rose stood in ranks before them. Loose ranks of archers stood slightly in front of the rest of the small host, raining down arrows on the men of the Crownlands. On either flank were hundreds of mounted sellswords. As Ned had come to expect, the men of the Company of the Rose had great discipline.
Ned could make out a mounted warrior in white armor and a white cape among the ranks of spearmen and archers. Ned had a feeling that he knew who it was, and he hoped that he wouldn't have to fight his friend. He had too much respect for him.
"Father, Ser Brynden is starting his attack." Jon grunted, staring north.
Ned looked over at where the men of the Riverlands were drawn up across from the dark-clad spearmen with the odd spiked caps. The Unsullied were said to rival the great Ghiscari legions, and now that legend would be tested. Ned remembered that one of Brandon's favorite stories was of the three thousand Unsullied who defended Qohor from the Dothraki horde.
The small catapults fired. Ned followed the boulders as they flew through the air and smashed into the eunuchs. They did all they could, but even their great bravery and fortitude could not withstand a boulder. Gaps formed in their shield wall as the boulders took out a couple of men.
Ser Brynden, ever the opportunist, already had his archers sending a volley of arrows plunging into the breaches, cutting down more men. The Unsullied quickly closed ranks again, weathering the second volley. Ned couldn't help but be impressed by their discipline. Most men would have at least wavered in the face of catapults and archers, but not the Unsullied.
"They certainly live up to the reputation." Derren muttered. "Ser Brynden will have his work cut out for him."
"Dwan will help with that." Ned said, turning his gaze back to the crownlanders. The gold cloaks on the walls tried to return fire with little success. "Right now, we just have to focus on breaking through here."
Ned, Derren, and Jon waited patiently as the forces exchanged fire. To their left, the forces of the Vale marched forward at a slow pace, taking their time while approaching the enemy, most of whom were on horseback. The dothraki among them were getting more and more anxious and looked ready to charge at any moment. Just as Derren knew that would.
"Any time now." Derren said, noticing where Ned was looking. "All Royce has to do is provoke them."
"That should do it." Jon said grimly as crossbowmen came forward, loading bolts.
As soon as the first volley was on its way, Ned knew who would be hit first. It wasn't the heavily armored sellswords, but the dothraki horselords. The bolts cut down men and horses at an alarming rate, and it was just the push they needed to make the nomadic horsemen charge.
Even as their allies shouted at them to stop, the horselords formed loose ranks and charged, yelling their war cries as they brandished their arakhs, whips, and bows above their heads. The valemen archers hurriedly ran back to the safety of their lines as ranks of pikemen ran forward, setting their spears as the horsemen approached. Ned knew exactly what would happen next. The dothraki slammed into the pikes, dozens of their horses being skewered on impact. Many of the valemen went down as well. But now the dothraki riders were stuck deep in the pikemen, cutting down men with reckless abandon.
The Knights of the Vale swung around the dothraki riders, cutting them off from their allies at the walls. Fighting men with pikes was hard enough for the dothraki. They were lightly armored and their weapons were only met to attack, no defend. Against fully equipped knights wearing steel-plate and chainmail, wielding weapons that cut through leather like a knife through parchment, they were cut down without remorse. They were caught between pikes and knights and although they fought fiercely, they died all the same.
"That's one down." Derren said. "Now a couple thousand sellswords to go."
Line Break
Connington
The Hand grimaced as he watched the front line waver before the men behind pushed them forward and the line held. The men of the Reach were holding no punches as they threw themselves against the men of the Golden Company. On either flank, a wedge of mounted knights flew in, trying their best to break Connington's men, but to no avail. The men of the Golden Company lived up to their reputation, making the forces of Randyll Tarly work for every bloody inch.
Connington had lost contact with the dornish host long ago when the reacher host forcefully split the allies, pinning Prince Oberyn's men against the Blackwater rush and Connington against the walls of the city. Constant volleys of arrows rained down on the sellswords, but the ranks of spearmen merely lifted their shields and kept fighting. Black Balaq, commander of the company's own archers, tried his best to return fire, but for every man he had, Tarly had a dozen. Eventually, they would run out of arrows and have to pick up a sword and shield like everyone else.
The Hand knew that there was a host of stormlords as well on his side, but Tarly had deployed them against the dornish, and rightfully so. If there were men who knew how to fight the dornish, it was the marcher lords. Connington would have loved to go against his former peers, but that was a fight for the dornish to have.
"Hold!" Connington bellowed, keeping a firm handle on the reins as his mount struggled for footing on the churning mud. "Hold!"
Viserion's roar sounded over the battle as Aegon swooped in, the white and gold dragon burning fiery trenches in Tarly's host. Unfortunately, the dragon could only attack from a certain range, and that meant that it was well within range to be fired back at. Dozens of spears, arrows, and bolts flew skyward, assaulting the beast. It cried out in frustration and pain before leaving, it's body dripping blood.
Connington felt like screaming himself. When they had planned the battle, the dragons were meant to be the tipping point. But they hadn't expected Tarly or his host of reachmen recently returned from the Westerlands. It made things far more difficult as the man had his men ready to brave dragonfire. Connington wasn't sure how the hell Tarly had accomplished that, but Viserion's recent attack had been extinguished by a group carrying water sacks.
Water brigade. That had been Stark's answer to the dragons, those a lot of fucking archers.
What was worse was that it was working.
"My lord, Mandrake is asking for help." Connington's squire called over the din of battle.
The former lord of Griffin's Roost glared at the lad. "Denied." he barked. "Mandrake will have to hold."
Connington had split up the company into smaller hosts under the command of high-ranking captains; Marq Mandrake, Gorys Edoryen, Franklyn Flowers, himself, and Harry Strickland. Strickland was at the Iron Gate with his small host of men, while all the others protected the Lion and King's Gates. The Hand had hoped that the smaller units would be able to be maneuvered easier, that way the enemy could be trapped between two hosts and hammered like a piece of hot metal between a hammer and anvil.
Instead, Tarly had split up the units, pouring his cavalry into the gaps between them while infantry and archers kept them in place. Now, instead of one combined front, Tarly had used Connington's plan against him and was destroying the four small hosts.
The Hand would be impressed if he wasn't fuming over his humiliation and trying to keep his men from being utterly and completely destroyed.
"Send word to Mormont again." Connington roared to his squire. "We need help!"
"Ser Jorah has already said that he has no one to send." the boy answered. "His men are stretched between four gates on the eastern flank."
Connington cursed under his breath and returned his attention back to the battle. He and his men would have already been smashed and routed if not for Aegon. Even though his dragon was wounded, it was still a dragon and Tarly's men kept a watchful eye on the skies, not resting until they saw the dragon dead.
And if the dragon kept receiving punishment, it wouldn't be too long before it was.
"Hold!" Connington bellowed again, directing more men into a point in the wall that had weakened. "Hold!"
A thought occurred to Connington as he surveyed the field. As far as the eye could see, it was a sea of green. He could see the small islands of company warriors, but they were being buffeted by waves and waves of reachmen. Out in the open, they were lambs to the slaughter, but if they could get back into the city, then they might stand a chance.
"Jasper!" Connington called, looking to his squire. "Get word to the others. They are to retreat into the city."
The boy grimaced, but nodded and rode off. Connington wasn't sure if a messenger could even make it to the others, but he hoped that it would once they were in the city, then they could take away Tarly's numerical advantage. Then, hopefully, they can inflict enough damage to force the bastards to retreat.
It would take a bloody miracle to win this fight.
"We're moving towards the King's Gate." Connington ordered, turning to his captains. "Keep the shield wall up and tell Balaq that we're moving."
Line Break
Robb
The northern king watched as the battle raged before him. Tarly's host had the men of the Golden Company completely surrounded and were hitting them relentlessly. Robb was amazed that they had lasted that long. Lord Caron's messenger had said that the dornish were throwing them back, but they were still waiting for Seaworth to arrive before giving their all.
The former smuggler had come in handy when Robb had planned his attack. Five thousand valemen had marched off in the middle of the night under Ser Symond Templeton, the Knight of the Ninestars. Ser Davos had orders from Robb to land them in the Blackwater Rush to flank the dornish. If Caron did his job correctly and pushed the dornish back against the walls instead of towards the gate, then the dornish commander would have no choice but to pull his host in and cut the stormlanders off. When Ser Symond and his valemen arrived, they should find themselves facing the backs of the dornish.
Bryce Caron has shown himself to be a reliable man so far in the war. Robb had faith that he would not fail him now.
To the east, the hosts under his father and Lord Royce were doing just fine. Derren's plan to lure the dothraki out and trap them had worked perfectly, and now over a thousand horsemen lay dead. Royce's men had taken a hit because of it, but a few hundred men for over a thousand dothraki was a price the lord of Runestone was willing to pay.
The one group that continued to surprise and amaze Robb were the Unsullied. The Blackfish had kept up his attack with the catapults and the volleys, but even after they were hit with boulders and arrows, they reformed their ranks. It was like nothing Robb had ever seen before. Any other group would have broken, but the Unsullied never did. They continued to raise their shields even as their comrades fell around them.
"They're a hardy group." Lord Forrester grunted. "I had heard stories, of course, but…."
"Ser Brynden will enjoy the challenge." Robb said. "But we still have the Company as well. When the time is right, they'll strike."
"What time is that?"
Robb glanced at the lord of Ironrath. "When we run out of boulders."
The northman chuckled as he looked up at the sky. "I'm surprised the Targaryen girl hasn't done anything yet."
The large black dragon had soared towards Ser Brynden's men, but after her dragon received a face-full of arrows, she didn't seem inclined to try another frontal assault. Instead, she attempted to destroy the arrows and boulders and they flew towards her men. She had little success.
The way Daenerys rode Drogon, she didn't want to put him in harm's way. She was waiting to choose her moment to attack instead of diving in without any care for her mount. Her nephew has yet to learn that lesson. From the reports coming from Tarly's host, Viserion was close to death. His hide was studded with arrows and spears.
Something that had confused Robb was when Daenerys tried to ride east to save her dothraki warriors. Drogon had followed her command without hesitation, but Rhaegal had roared in what seemed like defiance and flew back towards the Godswood, forcing Daenerys to go after him. That little moment of confusion had been all Royce needed to cut down the dothraki riders before they could be saved by Daenerys and her dragons.
"Your grace." a rider said, approaching Robb. "Ser Brynden wishes to let you know that he is sending his men in."
Robb nodded. "Send word to my father. Make sure the Company of the Rose is ready."
The man nodded and rode off. Lord Forrester waited till the man was gone before speaking. "My lord, the Unsullied have weathered boulders and arrows. Hundreds, if not more than a thousand, of their friends have died. Will a cavalry charge really break them?"
"Their power comes from their ranks." Robb answered, remembering the information his cousin and uncle had given him. "The rivermen will keep them in place as the cavalry breaks their formation. Once they can no longer be supported by others, they are just men in quilted tunics with spears and shields. They aren't suited for single combat, at least not their rank and file warriors."
"They won't break." Forrester commented.
"I know." Robb said. "They'll fight to the death, but at least they won't be able to fight effectively."
The two northmen watched as the battle continued. Robb's battleguard was spread out. The northerners who had traveled with Jon stayed with him with his father. He hoped that they would win glory in the battle, because they wouldn't if they guarded him. He had mostly recovered from the effects of poison, but he was still weak. His northmen weren't the only ones away from Robb. Loras was off with Lord Caron fighting the dornish. He had a bone to pick with them since it had been the dornish that injured him at Harrenhal. All Robb had around him was Ser Rolland, Ser Balon, Ser Garth, Ser Hobber, Ser Robar, and as always, Brienne.
Six elite warriors and a thousand ferocious northerner warriors was more than enough to keep the king safe.
Greywind was just an added bonus.
"Your grace, Lord Stark and Lord Royce are preparing to attack the walls." a messenger said, riding up to Robb.
"It seems they heard that Ser Brynden was moving in." Lord Forrester commented. "Let me guess," he said with a grim smile. "All according to plan."
Robb returned the smile. "So it would seem." he turned to the messenger. "Make sure Dwan Umber is ready to strike."
Line Break
Eddard
The Lord of Winterfell carved through the men of the Crownlands and the gold cloaks. Even though the enemy had more men, the company of sellswords had formed a wedge and was currently smashing their way through. The few hundred cavalry that Ned had left were smashing into the flanks of the enemy, pulling back out before charging back in. The tactic of hammer blows combined with the flying wedge had the enemy on the backfoot.
Dwan Umber and five hundred cavalry had ridden off to help the Blackfish deal with the Unsullied, leaving Ned with only half of the cavalry that company had at its disposal. Even still, they were doing a number on the enemy.
Ned parried the spearpoint before shoving his sword through the man's face. As the man joined the rest of the dead on the ground, Ned took a moment to survey the battle in front of the gate.
Gold cloak archers fired down Ned's host, but they were slowly being thinned out themselves because of the company's archers. Jon and Derren were on opposite sides of Ned, making sure the wedge kept its shape. Jon was fighting an older-looking man, and looked to have the better of the exchange. The man wore a blue tabard with two crossed blacksmith hammers. Ned didn't immediately recognize the device.
Ned's gaze fell on the white armored warrior who was the obvious commander. He was directing more men against the wedge. It had been a while since he had seen Ser Barristan, but the old knight hadn't seemed to age too much. He still looked as strong and as fit as ever. The line in front of him looked to be breaking soon. The men were bent back and all it would take was one good charge.
Ned looked down and was surprised to find Ghost by his side.
Or perhaps a single horseman and a horse-sized direwolf.
Ned spurred his mount forward, charging into the line and scattering a few men as his sword flashed down, cutting down two men in a matter of seconds. He pushed forward, killing men left and right. Ghost the telling factor, tackling full men and ripping off arms and mauling faces. The sellswords behind the pair filled in the wake they left, fighting with renewed fury.
Just as Ned hoped, the line of men defending the gate broke and ran back into the city. The men on the flanks who had been dealing with constant charges of cavalry saw their friends break and soon were routed as well, knowing full well that they could get caught outside and killed. The cavalry, seeing this, simply spurred their horses after the fleeing men.
Ned cantered up to the knight who stood like a statue in the middle of the gate, surrounded by half a dozen warriors. It was the most rag-tag band Ned had ever seen, and Ser Barristan was the odd one out of the mostly essosi group.
Ned dismounted and handed his horse off as he strode forward, sheathing his longsword and drawing Ice. He did not have the same feeling as he did when he fought Arthur Dayne. At the tower, he had been feeling but boiling anger for Rhaegar and the kingsguard who had helped hide his sister. Now, he felt nothing but sadness as he faced a man he considered a friend.
"Lord Stark." Ser Barristan said with a nod.
"Ser Barristan." Ned replied. "Put down your weapon. You will be treated fairly. You have my word."
"I believe that I would, but I cannot put down my sword." Ser Barristan said. "My queen ordered me to hold the gate."
Ned glanced past the knight and saw the enemy begin to come back. In a few moments, they would follow the knight's example and form a defensive line under the gate. Then it would be much harder to break them. Jon and Derren appeared at his side.
"Have the archers fire at the men behind Selmy." Ned muttered quietly, glancing at his cousin. "Jon, on me."
His son nodded and readied his sword, moving forward with Ned. Ser Barristan nodded sadly and removed his helm, tossing it off to the side. "Lord Stark is mine." he ordered. "Tumco."
A younger man in leather armor nodded firmly.
The four combatants clashed just under the heavy iron gate. Jon squared off against the essosi boy, the two fighters exchanging a flurry of blows. Ned could only glance at the fight as he and Ser Barristan moved slowly in a half circle. Ned was well aware that he wouldn't have Howland Reed to save him. He had to fight Ser Barristan on his own.
"I'm sorry." Ned said.
"As am I." Ser Barristan agreed before the two men launched themselves at each other.
As always, Barristan was amazingly fast. His strikes were perfectly timed and he was always balanced. It took every bit of concentration Ned had to meet the man blow for blow. As he fought, he couldn't stop flashbacks of the fight in the sands in the shadow of the tower, the pale blade slashing at him. Arthur Dayne was the most dangerous man Ned had ever fought.
Ser Barristan Selmy made Ned almost doubt that belief.
A grunt of pain stopped the fight as both warriors looked over at where Jon was pulling his blade from the other man's gut. Ned's son looked a little worse for wear, but he pointed his sword at the enemy and charged forward, a volley of arrows flying over his head as the cavalry charged forward towards the thin line of defenders.
Ser Barristan looked torn for just a second, looking as if he wanted to rally his men, but then he saw his men break and flee again under the arrows and the charge. His shoulders slumped as he turned back to his duel with Ned.
"The fight is over, ser." Ned said. "There is no shame in defeat. You know that."
Ser Barristan's shoulder squared again as his sword came up. "You have not taken the gate, my lord, not while I still stand."
Ned nodded. "Very well."
Their swords met in a screech of steel.
Line Break
Daenerys
Daenerys hoped that an aerial view would give her a better look at the battle. Unfortunately, it did exactly that. Everywhere she looked, her men looked outmatched and outnumbered. The Golden Company was stuck in a sea of reachmen, the dornish were fighting a battle on two fronts as another host appeared behind them on boats. It seems Robb intended to use every asset to his advantage.
Her faithful Unsullied had been assaulted by arrows and boulders, and now were facing riverlanders in front of them as their formation was broken by a well-timed cavalry charge that had come from the east. She knew that they would continue to fight to the death, the eunuch soldiers had no fear, but most of them were injured if not already dead. They wouldn't last long if the battle continued as it was.
The Mother of Dragons resisted the urge to look eastward. She had already tried to fly that way twice, but Rhaegal seemed adamant to defy her. So, instead of losing her child when she needed him the most, she roamed over the northern wall, waiting for her time to strike. She had already received her fair share of arrow volleys and although she loved her dragons and knew that they were fearsome, they were still small and she could not bear to have them killed.
Unlike her nephew.
Aegon was having very little success in the west. She had caught glimpses of Viserion's body, and the sight had torn at her heart. Her child's beautiful white and gold scales had turned scarlet and gold with blood. Dozens of arrows were embedded in his underbelly and his wings were torn and shredded. She had even spotted a spear stuck in one of his hind legs.
It angered her that her nephew had so little regard for the dragon's safety, but she also understood that, without him, the Golden Company was lost. Ser Jorah was unable to give them any reinforcements, and the reacher commander had used Connington's plan against him.
From the looks of it, the individual hosts seemed to be trying to move towards the gates, but that only allowed the reacher forces to divide them even more. Daenerys believed she knew what the Hand was trying to do, but his men were already too far gone for it to work. She wished desperately to do anything for them, but there was nothing she could do. Not without her dragons taking the punishment. They were too small, she knew that, but she was just now realizing just how small they were. They couldn't attack without being open to a counter attack, and Daenerys didn't want to know what it felt like to be hit by dozens of arrows.
Daenerys steeled her nerves and flew eastward, towards the red and white covered dragon hovering barely over the King's Gate. Aegon nodded to her as she approached. Daenerys pointed towards the walls, and thankfully the other rider got the message.
The three dragons landed heavily on the walls as the defenders scrambled out of the way. Aegon slid off Viserion, who moaned in pain and seemed to hide himself under his destroyed wings. Daenerys shoved whatever anger she had back down as she strode over to her nephew.
"We're losing." she said bluntly.
Aegon's eyes narrowed. "I noticed. At least I'm doing something about it."
Daenerys let the insult slide. "There's only one way this can end."
Aegon immediately looked north, towards the direwolf banner. "Stark." he said. "If charge him with all three dragons, he will have nowhere to run."
"I'll draw his archers." Daenerys said. "You and Viserion just need to reach him."
Aegon nodded. "Right."
The two dragon riders swiftly remounted and directed the dragons skyward. It took more time for Aegon since he had to coax Viserion out of his shell of pain and misery, but eventually the white and gold dragon joined his clutchmates in the air. Daenerys nodded to her nephew and they set off north, towards Robb Stark.
As soon as they were close enough, Daenerys urged Drogon into a dive towards the men of the Riverlands, Rhaegal following his example. When they were close enough, Daenerys screamed at the top of her lungs.
"Dracarys!"
Both dragons unleashed torrents of fire as they passed, leaving two burning trails behind. As they flew, Daenerys felt something whiz past her. Hundreds of arrows erupted from the enemy, easily finding marks on the dragons. Daenerys pulled Drogon back up, glancing at where Viserion and Aegon were. When she saw that they had yet to reach Robb, she gritted her teeth and turned back towards the enemy. She just had to get one more pass and Aegon would make it.
One more pass.
Line Break
Robb
Robb couldn't stop the fear from seeping into his stomach as the gold and white dragon flew right at him. The black-armored rider was unmistakable. The archers would normally fire at Aegon since he was coming at the king, but they had been ordered to keep their focus on Daenerys and her two dragons.
The northern king was not without his own archers.
Lord Gregor and Robb's guards rallied the northmen and led them away, leaving Robb and Greywind standing alone on the hill.
Robb watched as Viserion opened his maw and could literally see fire build in his throat. When the beast was about to unleash on Robb, it snapped its head to the side as arrows peppered its head and face. It closed its mouth and banked away from where the arrows were coming from, and that's exactly what Robb wanted it to do.
The dragon suddenly let out a heart-stopping cry of pain as it went down in a flailing ball of wings, tail, and rider. Robb only had a moment to see the arrow stuck deep in its eye, pushed in deeper by the crash landing.
Willas and Tyrion had found little weakness for dragons, but one was its eyes. Of course, hitting a flying, fire-breathing beast was no easy feat. That's why Robb had hidden the best archers he had in hidden trenches on either side of his position. On his left were men of Raventree Hall, archers who carried weirwood longbows and who could put three arrows in the air in a matter of seconds.
On his right was Eyan Hawker, by far the best archer Robb had ever seen.
The northern king knew that, should the battle go like he thought it would, the Targaryens would seek to cut the head off the snake. They would go after him. That's why he had set the trap with his archers, and they had not failed him.
Robb and Greywind rode towards the still form of the dragon as Lord Forrester and the northerners surrounded the body, armed with bows and pikes. Robb's guards also returned to him. Even though Robb had a lot of faith in his trap, he didn't want anyone else to die should it go wrong.
Aegon crawled out from under the dragon. His helm had fallen off, and his silver-blonde hair was plastered to his head. Part of his hair had turned red from a cut he had suffered. His left arm was turned at an odd angle and probably broken by the way he was holding it. All the man had left was a set of battered black armor and his sword.
Robb dismounted, keeping a hand on his sword.
"Yield." he ordered. "The battle is over. Yield and your men will be treated well, you have my word."
Aegon staggered to his feet, glaring hatefully at the bearded northerners. They all glared hatefully back. Many of them had probably fought in Robert's Rebellion twenty years prior.
"I'm no one's war trophy." Aegon spat.
Robb shrugged off his cloak, letting it pool at his feet as he drew his sword. He was only armored in a steel gorget, much like how Jon usually was. But he still had his plaited leather and Claw. Once again, Robb thanked the gods that he had a valyrian steel sword. If he had been wielding a normal steel sword, he wasn't sure how long his sword arm would be able to hold it.
"Your grace!" Brienne cried, riding forward.
For her service, Robb had given the warrior woman Red Rain to wield. Of course, he had done it in private so as not to insult Ser Jon, but there were few who deserved it more than Brienne.
"It's alright, Brienne." Robb said, holding up his good arm to stop her as he gazed at Aegon. "This is my fight."
"To the death." Aegon snarled, marching towards Robb.
"To the death." Robb agreed.
The two men met in a furious clash of blades. Aegon knew that Robb was recovering from an attack, and so tried to hammer his sword against Robb's, but the northern king was not a fool. Robb moved constantly to his right, where Aegon's bad arm was, parrying his opponent's blows and replying with his own. Each man was hampered, but that did little to dull their fighting spirit. Bad blood had been building between them ever since they had met each other not far from where they fought.
They were letting it all out now.
Robb caught himself in a bad situation when the two men locked blades. Aegon immediately began pressing down on Robb, but Robb sent a flat footed kick to the other man's knee, staggering him as Robb stepped back, a plan quickly coming to his mind.
The King in the North charged forward, Aegon meeting him as they again locked swords. Robb immediately grabbed onto Aegon's sword arm, the only good arm he had left. He knew that what he was about to do was very risky, and he only had a moment to do it. Robb held Aegon's hand in place as he slid his sword out of the lock and thrusted towards Aegon's heart, the black steel breastplate holding for just a moment against the valyrian steel before giving away.
Aegon's eyes went wide as his legs gave out. Robb ripped his sword from his hand as he fell, tossing it to the side. He watched as Aegon gently touched the blood pouring out of his chest. He looked up at Robb for just a second before his eyes shuttered close and he fell over; dead.
Robb nodded respectfully to Aegon's body. Even wounded and his army all but defeated, he still fought valiantly instead of giving up. It was annoyingly admirable. Aegon had turned out to be many things, but Robb could never say that the man wasn't brave.
"Make sure his body is treated with respect." Robb ordered as he moved towards the downed dragon. Eyan Hawker stood by its head, an arrow laid on his string. Robb glanced at the beast's chest. It was breathing, though only barely and was in an obvious amount of pain.
"Finish it." Robb ordered.
Eyan nodded and sent an arrow into the beast's other eye. It did not roar in pain or flail. All it did was shutter and go limp as the rest of its life left the body.
Line Break
Connington
The Hand of the dead king fought on foot as his men died around him. His plan to get inside the gate failed miserably as pressure continued to mount on his eastern flank. That combined with the fact that the reachmen archers didn't have to worry about a dragon and could just pour volley after volley into the weary sellswords finally broke the shield wall and death and destruction took over the most feared sellsword company in Essos.
He came face to face with another knight. The reacher force seemed to have hundreds of them. He wielded two swords and fought like a demon. His tabard was soaked with blood, but Connington could just barely make out a golden rose. Connington watched him cut down one of his captains before turning to him.
"Connington." he grunted, his voice muffled under his helm. "Yield."
Connington stabbed his sword into the ground and ripped off his helm. He sucked in a large lungful of air before retrieving his sword and bringing up his shield.
"Fuck you." he spat, charging forward.
The other man seemed to shrug before meeting Connington. The two men fought there in the midst of muck and death. Connington had fought many battles in Essos as a member of the Golden Company, and although he had experience, he was having trouble keeping up with the other man. His swords were like a blur of silver and could defend against his attacks while also hammering his own against Connington's shield, which was slowly folding in on itself.
Connington tried a move he picked up, feinting twice before thrusting towards his opponent's defenseless chest, but the man quickly recovered and twisted Connington's sword from his hand by forcing the tip and pressing the base of the blade down. The move was done with almost effortless ease and left Connington defenseless save for a battered and broken shield. He felt air swish by his neck as the other man's sword passed by. He then felt liquid pour down his chest and into his armor.
Then the ground flew up to meet him and the world went black
Line Break
Garlan
The man known as Garlan the Gallant glared through his helm at the Hand's still body. The man was a good fighter, but Garlan had unleashed everything he had against the man. Although it had yet to be proven, Garlan personally thought that Connington was the one who had tried to have Robb and Torrhen killed.
It all made sense to him. Connington controlled the Golden Company, where Maar served. Daenerys had been too welcoming and Aegon wouldn't dare order the death of a child, not after his own past. The next logical person was Jon Connington.
Loras had fought under Caron to get his revenge against the dornish. Garlan had fought under Tarly to get his own.
"That's for my family." he grunted before moving on to another opponent. The Golden Company was nearly finished off.
Line Break
Daenerys
Daenerys could only watch as her child and nephew were killed. Stark's plan to get Viserion on the ground had worked to perfection, much to Daenerys fury and sadness. She then watched as Aegon emerged from the dragon and fought Robb, only to soon fall as well.
It seems the Starks had a knack for killing dragons.
The battle was over, that much was clear. The Golden Company was nothing but a few small pockets of resistance. The reacher forces were now turning on the dornish host, smashing them against the walls of the city and the banks of the Blackwater Rush. They were her only force still showing some resistance. The sellswords to the east were either routed or had surrendered to the forces of the Vale. Ser Barristan's force had broken as well and was being chased through the streets.
Even her Unsullied had been destroyed, though not broken. Their formation had been destroyed, and although they were not famed as great individuals soldiers, they still refused to surrender or flee.
Her army was gone. What she wanted more than anything was to burn her enemies, but in doing so, she knew she'd lose her last two dragons. She had already lost one and her only family left. She couldn't afford to lose anymore.
Daenerys landed on the Gate of the Gods, where Ser Jorah was directing archers against the men of the Riverlands. He looked grimly at the queen as she slid off the black dragon.
"Khaleesi." he said. "I'm glad to see you still alive. King Aegon…."
"He's dead, I know." Daenerys said. "Pull back everyone to the Red Keep."
The northern knight shook his head. "We can pull the Unsullied back, and perhaps Ser Barristan's men from the Old Gate, but that is all. Every other gate is being assaulted by the enemy if not taken already."
"Is there nothing else we can do?" Daenerys asked, fighting back the feeling of desperation.
"Surrender, Khaleesi." Ser Jorah advised. "This battle is lost, but you can still save their lives."
"And give up my throne?" Daenerys said quietly.
Ser Jorah gazed down at the battle for a second before looking back at Daenerys. "Live to fight another day, my lady."
"Ser Jorah is correct." a voice said from behind them.
The pair turned to find Varys, who looked out of place in his robe and slippers amongst men in armor with swords and spears. Daenerys saw Ser Jorah's hand fall to his sword. There was no lost love between the spymaster and the former spy.
"Varys." she greeted.
"My lady." Varys said with a small bow. "I am sorry that it has taken me this long, but I have confirmed the identity of the one who hired Lysono Maar."
"Who?" Daenerys asked.
"It was Connington." Varys said sadly. "The reason it took me so long to confirm that fact was because Lysono killed my little bird. I found their body and the message that was meant for me."
"I thought your little birds sang in your ear." Ser Jorah grunted.
"Better safe than sorry." Varys said with a shrug.
Daenerys glanced over her shoulder where the last of the Golden Company was being wiped out. Ser Jorah's words rang in her ears. 'Live to fight another day'. If Varys was right, and Daenerys surrendered to Robb, there was a good chance he wouldn't kill her. Not if she could convince him that he got his revenge.
"Tell the army to stand down." she ordered quietly. "Tell the Young Wolf that I will be in the Red Keep."
Ser Jorah nodded. "Yes, Khaleesi."
Line Break
Eddard
Ned shoved Ser Barristan back, parrying his attack. Both their chests were heaving from the fight. Neither had managed to get even a mortal blow on the other, but it was almost as if they weren't trying. Something was keeping them from killing each other, although neither realized it.
As Ned went to charge, horns went up from inside the city, stopping him in his tracks. Both he and Ser Barristan lowered their swords as a responding horn came from Robb's army. For Ned, it was the signal to stand down.
"Stand down." Ned muttered.
"Same." Ser Barristan said. "It seems the fighting has stopped."
Ned placed Ice tip down in the dirt and leaned on it. He was not an old man, but he certainly felt like one. He's lived a life that Brandon or Lyanna would love to have. Battles, mysterious family members, dragons. It was all too much for a simple northerner like Ned. All he wanted was to be home with his family, away from the madness in the south.
"Lord Stark." a rider called, pulling his horse to a stiff legged stop. "The king wishes for you to join him at the Red Keep."
Ned nodded. "Find me and Ser Barristan mounts."
The rider nodded and rode off.
"Thank you, Lord Stark." Ser Barristan said, wiping his blade clean.
"Might as well find out what happened together." Ned said.
The two men waited patiently as horses were brought forth for both of them. Soon, they were in the saddle and riding towards the Red Keep. As they rode, they saw men loyal to Robb disarming the Targaryen soldiers. Even though Robb had ordered the army to stand down, it was clear that the fight hadn't ended in a draw. Robb's army had won, the order to stand down was just a way to stop any further death.
"I may not have time later, so I will ask this now." Ned started. "How did you end up with the Targaryen girl?"
"When Robert died, Joffrey and Cersei blamed his death on me." Ser Barristan answered. "Though I'm sure it was also a ploy to promote the Kingslayer to Lord Commander."
"Can't say that did anything." Ned grunted. "He spent the war in the cells below Riverrun."
Ser Barristan nodded.
"So you fled to Essos." Ned said.
"I saw no other choice." Ser Barristan said. "Joffrey sent men after me. Daenerys seemed like the most….I wanted to…."
"I understand." Ned said. "I don't know what my son will do, but I know that he is not Robert Baratheon."
"You did a fine job with him, my lord." Ser Barristan praised.
Ned shook his head as they rode into the castle courtyard. "I helped make him the man he is. He became the king all on his own."
"Father, Ser Barristan." Robb said, striding up to the pair. He was followed by Ser Brynden along with his guard.
"Robb." Ned said.
"Ser Jorah said Daenerys is inside." Robb said.
"Ser Jorah?" Ned said.
"Lord Stark." Jorah Mormont said stiffly, being escorted forward. He, like everyone else, had been disarmed and now his hands were being held behind his back by a pair of northern soldiers. "It's been a long time."
"Ser Jorah." Ned growled. "You still must pay for your crimes."
"I paid, Stark." Ser Jorah barked. "I left my home, my family, my sword….my honor. I left it all behind. I have paid."
Ned growled but dropped the subject. "Daenerys has surrendered."
Ser Jorah nodded. "She has. She is waiting in the throne room for Lord Robb."
"Let's not keep her waiting." Robb said, looking and acting very much like a king. "Ser Brynden, please make sure that everything is handled. I want no more killing and no looting or raping. Have the enemy rounded up on the tourney ground in individual groups. And start counting bodies if you can."
"Yes, your grace." Ser Brynden said.
"Lord Robb." Ser Barristan called after them.
"Yes?" Robb said, stopping and looking over his shoulder.
"Do not go into the godswood." the old knight explained. Ned didn't know what that meant, but Robb seemed to.
"Ser Balon," he said, "take a dozen men and seal off the godswood."
The stormlander knight nodded and strode off.
"Father." Robb said, striding into the castle.
Line Break
Robb
Daenerys' attempt to look regal worked to some extent. She was garbed in light silver mail and bleached white leather armor. She had a steel dragon covering her shoulders, with its wings acting as shoulder pauldrons and its head and tail forming a sort of gorget. The silver and white combined with her pale skin and silver-blonde hair made her look like a spirit from another world. She carried no weapons from what Robb could tell.
"Robb." she said as he entered.
"Daenerys." Robb responded. "You've surrendered."
The Targaryen girl nodded slowly. "I have. You have ordered your men to stand down as well, have you not?"
"More or less." Robb answered honestly. "Your men are being disarmed and rounded up, but they won't be killed. You have my word on that."
"I know who tried to have you killed." Daenerys said, getting right to the point.
"That's why you surrendered." Robb muttered. "Very well. Who?"
Daenerys seemed to swallow her words. "Lord Varys has confirmed Connington's role in the assassination plot."
Robb raised an eyebrow. "A little too late for him to pay for his crimes. My goodbrother Garlan killed him in combat. What about Aegon?"
Daenerys shook her head. "He played no part in it. Believe what you will about him, but he is not one to condone the killing of children."
Robb shrugged. "Any other accomplices?"
"No, my lord." Varys said from the side of the room. "Lord Connington and Maar worked alone."
Daenerys gazed at Robb. "What will you do now, Young Wolf?"
Robb felt like the girl was challenging him, seeing if he could make the hard decision. He didn't take the bait. He knew that he didn't have to fake strength or make some stupid decision to look better in front of his men. He was secure in who he was as a man and as a king. If Daenerys was goading him to make a mistake, she was about to be sorely disappointed.
"You and your advisors will be contained to the Maidenvault." Robb said. "Then I will figure out what will be done with you."
"For a man who seemed to be able to predict the moves of my commanders, I'm surprised you haven't already had my neck put on the executioner's block." Daenerys said evenly.
"Connington tried to kill me and my son, not you." Robb grunted. "You were the fool who fought to protect a would-be child killer."
Daenerys hands gripped the iron pommels on the throne. She again swallowed her words. "What's done is done."
"What's done is done." Robb agreed. "This battle is over."